


You'll be safe, I promise

by Gamerdano



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Almost Dying, Angst, Angst heavy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I came back after like months, I have no words to defend myself, I mean, M/M, Mobs, Regeneration, Skeletons, Temporary Character Death, chapter one can be read as a stand alone though, could be read platonic but was written with a romantic pairing in mind, enjoy, even though I had the plot completed, for that three people in the comments asking for the fic, i guess?, not sure if it's very violant but there, post by the_pastelpeach, real life minecraft, tw blood, will probably do a chapter two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamerdano/pseuds/Gamerdano
Summary: George is about to die. he's one arrow away. but dream promised he wouldn't be hurt. he promised he would be safe.aka that fic I wrote in insta comments and now got a fit of insparation for, and might add a part two.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) cla, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	You'll be safe, I promise

**Author's Note:**

> do not ship irl peeps if they're not ok with it. this is a shipping of their online personas and is based off of a fanart. if either of these people say they're not comfy with fics, this will be deleted.

The first time Dream said it, it had been a joke.

“I promise you, George,” a wheeze threatened to spill from his already grinning lips. “I will never let anything hurt you. Not even a tiny flower.”  
The red flower that had just freaked George out was in his hand. 

“and I will never let you live this down either.”

Of course it had, the conversation on it’s own accord was completely ridiculous. George had seen some sort of flower and exhaustion had made it look like a mob, freaking George out and making Dream let out tea pot sounds. After that day, Dream had made it a point to give George one of those flowers every. Damn. Day. As welcome as the memory was, -and seeing George thought about it every few days, at least, so it was more than just welcome- maybe right now was not the best time to be thinking about it.

George was running now. He was running, running, running. He had been an idiot and was now paying the price. He should have listened to Dream when he warned him not to go into the deeper forest at night, and if he made it out alive, he would never ever not listen to Dream ever again. Not that Dream would know about it, of course. What made George even a bigger idiot, however, was the fact that he knew he would be facing skeletons and he forgot to check if his shield was too damaged or not. He had forgot because Dream gave him that stupid flower, even after they’d been fighting, (“if you insist on going, take the flower for luck,” Dream had said) and it made George completely forget about his shield. 

And now he was running, low on health, low on luck, and low on hearts.

The second time Dream said it, it was only half a joke. 

“DREAM! HELP ME!” George was running through the village, having accidentally hit one of the villagers, and the golem was closing up on him. Just as he was good as gone, a flying blade pierced through the Gollem’s head and saved his life. George would have been grateful, if, he had not heard wheezing following the blade.

“Oh, my, god! George! How the hell did that happen!” He could have thought dream was really worried if he wasn’t dying of laughter. George honestly would have preferred getting hit by the Golem to this, the laughing was NOT worth it all. 

“why help me if you were gonna laugh about it?”

“because, gorgie, I promised I would never let you get hurt.” Dream was still laughing, but George couldn’t help but notice his sincerity, or the way his laughter seemed to hang just a second longer than necessary, or-

George tripped, and fell down. He picked himself back up, of course, but the trip brought him back enough to check his hunger, and left hearts. His hunger was low, if he didn’t die to the mobs, starvation would get him for sure. This meant no more running. His health, his hearts, were even lower. He had two hearts left. Two arrows, and he would die. He was a dumbass, but he wasn’t dumb. He knew only skeletons spawned around here, so he should be safe long as he was quiet. He glanced around, and moved to hide behind the nearest tree. He wasn’t sure where the skeletons would come from, but cover was always good. He sank under the tree, trying to at least get his breathing in order. If he would die, he had to have some of his already torn apart dignity left. He made one last attempt to get his breathing in order.

The third time he said it, Dream was completely serious.

"What am I gonna do, oh god, they’re coming from everywhere, I-"

George tried to get his thoughts, which weren’t exactly helpful, into order. He waved his sword to the general direction of where the zombies were coming from. Dream had gone inside the cave to break the spawner, but George wasn’t sure if Dream was even alive, let alone if what he did actually worked. Some rouge zombie came from behind him, getting a good hit.

“Ah! No nonononono I’m so low oh god help me-“

George stared in horror as his sword broke with the dying zombie, but just as the others closed in on him, an arrow flew by, taking three zombies down with it. Before George realized it, arrows were raining on everything except him, and soon the waves died, leaving lots of rotten fresh behind. Before he could shake out the shock, George got handed something and got pulled into a hug. He realized it was Dream hugging him, and he was handed bread. He ate quickly, almost too low on health. Dream was almost crushing him by the time he was done, but he hugged back, nonetheless. He almost died, but Dream saved him. He felt something being whispered to his ear, and only seconds later he processed what he had heard;

“I promised I would never let anything hurt you.”

A sharp sting brought him back to the present, and ripped a scream from his throat. He saw an arrow stabbing him, his hearts now down to one, and he knew more arrows were to come, he wasn’t alone, they were close. George stood up.

So, this was how he would die. He closed his eyes; he wanted the change to be smooth, just like closing his eyes, he would go from alive to death, a dangerous gamble, a thin line to be walking on, and it felt like George was sprinting. He didn’t want to think about death. He had heard rumors, myths, saying that if you were good enough, the gods would allow you to be reborn as you were. Go back to your life, as if you were never even gone. Regeneration, they called it. Death of heroes, birth of legends.

George didn’t know if he was good enough. He had killed a lot, for example, that wasn’t good. He had lied also. And he felt. He felt things he shouldn’t have. He got jealous, possessive, selfish. He felt like nobody else, his heart felt like it would burst, but not like this, no, not in a bad way. When his hearth felt like bursting, it was of life, not of death. And he cared. A bit less at times, if he was honest. But he was sure he made up for it, because he was sure he cared a bit too much almost all the time. Maybe he should have cared more about dying at the moment, but he only cared for Dream. How would he react when George didn’t come back? How would he feel when he learned George was dead? George wasn’t as good as he could have been, but he hoped gods would have enough mercy on the one he truly loved, enough to bring George back. 

He didn’t want to think about death, so he thought about life. 

His life.

He felt the pull before he heard the voice. When something pulled him, he tensed up. He didn’t expect death to pull, he thought it would guide. Still, he steadied himself for the pain, the agony, and maybe the relief after all of them being gone. He prepared himself for darkness, or perhaps pure light, enough to drown him, to choke him even after he needed to breath no more. The hurt not to be healed, but to linger, where he was supposed to be. The torture, and the heal just enough to make sure he could go on, a cycle of hate and love, pain and relief.

And yet it never came.

Instead, he felt soft.

He first felt the soft of a fabric beneath his hands, so familiar yet so strange, like a memory, long since passed. Funny how shock can make you forget things, like a hoodie you’ve stolen so many times before. 

He then felt the firm figure under the hoodie, as tense as he was, even more maybe, holding onto him as if his life depended on it. The frame, so strong yet gentle, so safe yet dangerous, so protective. He felt Dream, protecting him, clenching and holding on, guarding him, like he promised.

The third thing was that there were no more mobs around, and that the passing shock finally allowed him to feel the tears running down his eyes, rolling off of his cheeks, down to the ground. He saw the reflection of his fear and relief in Dreams eyes, and more tears.

And god, there was a lot of blood. His blood, perhaps, or it was from that arrow stuck in Dreams arm.

Dream had taken an arrow for him.

Only after his thought process did he realized not only dream was still holding him, but he was also whispering in his ear, once again, like a mantra, a phrase so true, not even the fates could change. 

You’ll be safe, I promise.

And so, George listened to this new found repetition of words, feeling the warmth and calm washing over him, maybe the last thing possible and probable at that moment.  
he would be safe, Dream promised.

**Author's Note:**

> from the fanart of the most talented the pastel peach on insta and tumblr! I got permission! will probably add a part two, and please drop a prompt/request/idea if you wanna read more!


End file.
